


Crack! Fiction

by ferryberry



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, collection, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferryberry/pseuds/ferryberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various unrelated Faberry Crack!Fics collected into one spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Naming of Faberry

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every new power couple in glee gets a portmanteau. However, this combination is proving to be more difficult than some.

The gavel was struck and Kurt cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other nine members standing around the piano.

"This meeting has been called to order," he announced, folding his hands neatly on top of a spiral notebook he'd been carrying around with him for the better part of the week. "As Finn pointed out almost precisely one year ago at our parents' wedding, it's tradition for New Directions to come up with a portmanteau to title every new power couple that enters its ranks. Therefore, it's only fair—" here he rolled his eyes "—that our newest power couple be given the same courtesy, no matter how unnatural the pairing."

Santana scoffed. "This is lame. Can't we just call them 'disgusting' and be done with it?"

"You're just upset because 'Brittana' keeps getting rejected," Mercedes said pointedly.

"And as we've said many times before, Santana, until you make it official with our dear Britt-Britt, you're not a couple, let alone a power couple," Kurt added.

"Gay bastard," Santana grumbled, while Brittany looked particularly aglow at all her favorite names being tossed around.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Kurt frowned suspiciously, but chose to let it go for now.

"Now," he continued, with a toss of his perfectly coiffed hair, "I've gone around to all of you this week in hopes of finding a suitable name for our favorite glee girls—" At Mercedes' glower, he hurried to say, "Besides Mercedes." Tina folded her arms. "And Tina." Santana was tapping her foot and glaring pointedly. "And Santana." The glare intensified and he huffed. " _What_?"

One head jerk made the source of her displeasure clear and Kurt rolled his eyes, adding, "And Brittany."

Santana nodded approvingly.

"As I was saying, I've collected a suggestion for a suitable name from each of you this week, though some I've unfortunately had to pitch out," he announced, leveling a disappointed glare at the guilty parties as he flipped his notebook to the correct page. "I'm sorry, Sam, but while 'WTF' may be appropriate in the sense that that's what we were all thinking when they announced it, it doesn't combine their names. At all."

Sam shrugged.

"And Finn, 'Why-Does-Everyone-Want-To-Hurt-Me' is even worse," Kurt said exasperatedly.

"Seriously, Finn?" Tina prompted, shaking her head with wide eyes.

"Look, you've got to admit that those two are like hellbent on ruining my life. They're always cheating on me an-and having babies with other people and…stuff," Finn trailed off, gesturing futilely.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Boo hoo, brother. Boo hoo."

"You guys are so mean to me," he mumbled.

Puck made a point of moving over next to Artie. Standing next to such a complete pansy ass would totally wreck his rep, after all.

"I'm like two seconds away from punching him in the face. Can we move on now?" Santana snapped irritably.

Finn visibly paled, and Kurt cleared his throat.

"Of course. I'm sorry, Puck, but I had to get rid of _all_ of your suggestions," he said, wrinkling his nose while the boy in question just waggled his eyebrows. "Some of them still make me want to gag."

"Let me see," Mercedes said, and the others gathered around him to peer at the sizable list.

When they all leapt back at once with an "EW!", Puck grinned.

"Hey, you can't expect my mind not to get a little dirty when _that_ combo gets together. Freaking hot, dude," he said unapologetically, and when his eyes glazed over and a wistful look appeared on his face, the rest of them decided it would be best to move on.

"Anyway. I also move to remove Santana's suggestion of 'Stubbers,' because although it does combine their nicknames in an…interesting way, it's-it's…."

Santana smirked. "Awesome?"

"Offensive?" Mercedes offered.

"Rude?" Tina added.

"Bitchy?" Artie said tentatively.

"Just like you," Kurt concluded, and Santana rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you don't like that one, I got plenty more. Runo, Man Bitch—"

"It's mean," Brittany said firmly, and Santana's mouth closed.

A moment of silence followed before Kurt said, "Motion to remove 'Stubbers' from the list."

"Second," Mercedes said.

"All in favor?"

It was seven to three.

"All right, moving on," Kurt continued, a pleased smirk on his face. It faltered as he read the next one. "Uh, Brittany, I-I'm not really sure where yours came from, but it was a nice thought." He smiled.

"What is it?" Artie asked curiously.

"Uh, she said Mad Libby and Sexy Q could be either Mad Q or Sexy Libby," he replied uncertainly.

Brittany leaned closer to Santana and whispered, "Was that in a different story?"

"I like Sexy Libby," Puck said, and raised his hand.

After the girls had glared at him long enough, he lowered it with a dejected frown.

"All right, on to the real ones," Kurt announced, smirking. "Mike put in 'Quinchel' for consideration."

"No," Finn said immediately, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose.

"I agree with Finn. That's way too close to 'Finchel' for comfort," Mercedes said apologetically. "Sorry, Mike."

He shrugged.

"All against Quinchel?" Kurt asked, and there was no contest. Even Mike raised his hand. "Okay. Tina suggested 'Rainn.'" He quirked an eyebrow.

"That's…actually good," Sam said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Santana agreed mock-brightly, then glared at both him and Tina. "If we want to sound like we're talking about some hippie lovechild from the seventies."

Tina deflated and Artie patted her hand comfortingly.

"That would also work for Finn and Rachel," Mike pointed out sheepishly.

"He's right. Why the hell are you and Quinn's names so damn close?" Puck asked accusingly, and Finn spluttered.

"It's not my fault! I-I didn't—"

"Anyway." Kurt rolled his eyes. "All in favor of Rainn?"

"Okay, stop switching it up. It's either 'all for' or 'all against.' Pick one and stick with it," Santana growled.

He blinked at her, and only Sam raised his hand.

"Mercedes suggested—"

"Hey, what about Rachinn?" Puck blurted suddenly, looking a little too enthusiastic.

"No," Santana barked.

"What? Why?" he grumbled, pouting.

"Because I know what you're thinking and it's not cool just because it's close to 'bitchin','" she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Also it could still be used for Finn and Rachel," Brittany pointed out helpfully.

Mercedes patted Puck's arm when his pout only deepened. "But kudos for coming up with a PG-rated one."

He grinned.

"As I was saying, Mercedes came up with 'Fabrerry,'" Kurt said, and glanced around the group to gauge reactions.

"It sounds like library," Artie said uncertainly.

"That's dumb," Santana said flatly.

"What? It's just Fabray, Berry, Fabrerry," Mercedes offered, and when she was still met with blank stares, she sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

"It just doesn't really have a ring to it," Sam said comfortingly.

"And it's really long," Finn added.

"Finn won't be able to remember it," Brittany said, and Santana grinned.

"Damn! Good burn, baby," she praised, and Brittany beamed.

"Excuse me?" Kurt prompted, huffing. "Brittany and Santana's blatant gayness aside, it's time for _my_ suggestion."

"What about mine?" Artie asked, affronted.

"I wrote mine before I got to you, sorry," he said dismissively. "All right. Brace yourselves. How about 'Ferry'?" He grinned.

Santana snorted. "They're gay enough for it."

Kurt scowled at her.

"Wait, ferry like the boat or farry like…Harry with an 'f'?" Mike asked.

"I can't stop thinking of fairies like with wings," Tina observed.

"It kind of does make you think of a fantasy creature," Sam said thoughtfully.

" _Everything_ makes you think of a fantasy creature," Santana pointed out, rolling her eyes. "If I'd known y'all was gonna be a Star Wars geek, I wouldn't have agreed to do a duet with you."

"Star Wars is lame. I like Avatar. _Av-a-tar_."

"I _don't care_."

"Okay!" Kurt exclaimed, his frown going deep enough to cause—gasp—wrinkles. "That's enough. Why don't we vote?"

"I don't think there's enough of Quinn's name in it," Puck said, and Mercedes patted him to give him his kudos for thinking in PG again.

Artie snorted, and everyone stared at him.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking it rhymes with Rachel's last name? You know, Berry Ferry, Ferry Berry," he said, chuckling. They all stared some more and he faltered. "No? Okay. Moving on."

"I think I know her," Brittany whispered to Santana.

"Can we vote now?" Kurt blew out irritably. When no one else interjected, he said, "Okay, all in favor of Ferry?"

He raised his hand, and that was the end of that.

"Fine. Okay, last suggestion was Artie's and it's 'Faberry,'" he grumbled halfheartedly.

There was a moment of silence.

"Artie!" Tina exclaimed, and he jumped. "That is totally genius!"

He grinned bashfully. "Really?"

"It's like the perfect length," Sam said, patting Finn's shoulder.

"It's so cool. It's like Fabrerry and Ferry but not," Finn added, grinning to himself.

"It's actually pretty good," Santana approved.

"It's perfect!" Mercedes said eagerly. "It doesn't mix with anyone else's names and it hooks them in the exact right spot."

"I like it," Mike said.

"Totally dig it," Puck added.

"I think I've heard it before," Brittany said sagely. "You guys, we should look it up before we just steal it like that."

There was another moment of silence.

"It's good," Kurt said grudgingly, smiling at Artie, who beamed with pride. "Okay, all in favor?"

They all grinned at each other and Puck bounded to the door.

"Okay, ladies, you can get your fine asses in here!" he shouted.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend's ass, Puckerman," Quinn hissed as she marched in, Rachel preceding her.

"That's not fair. You can't take talking privileges away from me, too!" he whined, and Quinn snorted.

"You're such a child."

Rachel waited until Quinn was wrapped securely around her from behind before addressing the others.

"So, what's the verdict?" she prompted, bouncing in place. Quinn smirked.

"It's unanimous. Your power couple name is…." Kurt paused, glaring at the rest of them, who waited impatiently.

"Well?" Rachel asked, a frown beginning to peek out.

"Do you people not understand the concept of drum rolls?" the boy growled, and there was a collective 'oh!' before they all started tapping their fingers on the piano and vibrating their tongues along the roofs of their mouths. Santana's may not have been in her own, but hey. "Thank you! Okay. Your power couple name is…Faberry!"

The drum rolls ceased and Brittany and Santana parted with smack, leaving a roguish grin on Puck's face. Rachel leaned back to catch Quinn's eye, and they did that weird nonverbal communication thing that always freaked Finn out. At last, they both smiled and Quinn nodded.

"I like it," she approved, and Rachel nodded.

"As do I. Though it reminds me of a slushie flavor." She tapped her chin. "Although, the combination _does_ taste pretty good."

"Rachel!" Quinn yelped, eyes going wide, and Puck's grin could not have been bigger.

Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at all the wide-eyed and mildly disgusted faces.

"Oh, my God. Did I say that out loud?" she whimpered, and at Quinn's nod, she groaned. "I think it's time for me to go home now."

And she twisted out of Quinn's arms before executing a (mostly) dignified exit. Puck frowned.

"What about the party?" he called, pouting, and it grew when Quinn trailed after her girlfriend.

"I thought we were all going to Puck's tonight to celebrate your…new out-and-proud couple-ness," Mercedes reminded her, and Quinn paused.

"Are you kidding? If Unfiltered Dirty Talk Rachel is visiting, I'm totally taking advantage. See you guys Monday."

And then she was gone. The rest stood in silence, each feeling happy for their friends, a little grossed out, and kind of at loose ends. Except for Finn, who had turned pink.

"Mailman!"


	2. Reunification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future. Quinn and Rachel meet up again at their high school reunion, but somebody seems to be having a little trouble remembering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

It was a reunion. It was…what you do, after all. And, if nothing else could be said for them, Fabrays followed the social code to the letter. So when Quinn Fabray saw Rachel Berry standing at the punch table, sipping at her cup and laughing merrily with a few old 'friends' from high school, she strode over, awaited her attention, and offered a smile and a handshake.

Completely ignoring the tingles that shot up her arm when their hands touched and Rachel's smile landed on her, of course. As she had done quite successfully for the duration of high school. Because it didn't mean _anything_.

Quinn stretched her smile. "It's good to see you, Rachel. Congratulations on your success on Broadway. We all knew you'd make it."

Rachel's eyes were sparkling in an instant. "Thank you! That's so nice of you, um…." She cleared her throat, smile twisting into an uncomfortable frown.

A blonde eyebrow shot up. "Yes?"

"I…I'm sorry, it's just…I can't seem to recall your name," Rachel said sheepishly, and then hid behind her punch cup.

Quinn blinked. And stared. And blinked again.

"Seriously, Berry?"

"I'm sorry!" she yelped desperately, sounding truly apologetic, too.

Quinn had flashbacks to wanting to punch her in high school. It always started like this: Rachel slighting her somehow. Which didn't mean _anything_.

Rachel was babbling again. "It's just…I keep running through faces in my head and trying to place y—"

"For Christ's sake," she mumbled, then growled, "Quinn?"

Rachel stared. "That-that's a pretty name," she offered, and smiled.

"Quinn Fabray."

"I…."

"President of the celibacy club, head cheerleader, got pregnant with Puck's baby, I was in glee club with you for three years, you stole my boyfriend, Finn?"

Rachel's jaw flapped.

" _Really_? None of these things are ringing a bell?" Quinn gaped at her.

"I'm really sorry," Rachel said sincerely, a little whine to her voice and a pout to her lips. "I wish I could remember you. You were so lovely and pleasant when you came up." Her lips twisted. "Of course, now you just seem kind of crazy, but that's most likely because I don't remember the instances you're speaking of," she placated, smiling sweetly.

It was reminiscent of the common pseudo-compliment 'you're actually a good singer, Quinn; occasionally sharp sometimes, but that's just because you lack my years of training.' Quinn still didn't know why it managed to make her feel better then. Now she was seeing red.

"For God's sake, I was mean to you! I called you names!"

"That could be said of a lot of people," she countered, and Quinn's mouth snapped shut. Rachel eyed her for a moment. "You said you were in glee club…. Oh! Were you the totally gay, ditzy blonde cheerleader?"

Eyebrow up. "Um…no, I think you're talking about Brittany."

Rachel grinned, eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah! She was so sweet!"

Quinn couldn't believe it. "Really? You remember Brittany and not me? How is this happening?"

"Wait." Rachel sobered, tilting her head and glancing quite obviously downward. "Were you the one that got a boob job?"

Quinn ignored the way things were heating up and hardening and getting wetter under Rachel's intent gaze, because it didn't mean _anything_.

"Do I _look_ like I got a boob job?" she snarked.

She was already looking anyway…so it wasn't like Quinn was asking her to look or anything.

"Well, they're so natural these days, it's hard to tell," Rachel answered matter-of-factly, finally meeting her eyes as she took another sip of punch.

Quinn sighed. "That was Santana."

She brightened again. "Satan? I remember her!"

"We don't even look anything alike," she pointed out irritably, folding her arms. "I don't even know how you got that."

"Well, I just assumed you wouldn't hesitate to have other work done after getting a boob job," Rachel reasoned.

Quinn had to admit she had a point.

"Wasn't she the one who punched some blonde chick in the hallway that one time?" Rachel asked, tapping her chin.

Quinn gaped. " _ME_! She punched _me_!"

"Oh, my God, really?" Rachel snorted. "No offense or anything, but that was hysterical. I watched the YouTube video at least fifty times. I think it's still in my favorites."

She whipped out her BlackBerry (of course she would…) and Quinn smacked her hand to her forehead. She couldn't believe this.

"I can't believe this."

"Well, keep giving me clues, this is fun!" Rachel said eagerly, and Quinn frowned skeptically.

"Really?"

"Yes, you're the most interesting person I've talked to all night. Everyone else wants my autograph and blathers on with apologies about how badly they treated me while 'subtly' hinting that front row tickets would really help them out." Rachel smiled. "So please keep talking to me!"

She practically bounced, and Quinn (completely against her will) gave in.

"Um…okay, I gave my daughter, Beth, to your mom, Shelby."

Rachel frowned apologetically. "I haven't talked to her since sophomore year."

"I dated Sam Evans for a while and cheated on him with Finn."

"I don't remember this Sam guy, either, and who hasn't cheated on or with Finn somehow?"

"I sang I Say A Little Prayer for my glee audition."

"All auditions were private."

"You called Sam and I 'Ken and Barbie.'"

"Serves you right if you really did call me names."

"You were always telling me I was sharp."

"As a tack?"

"When I sang."

"Oh, well, so was Kurt sometimes, if I remember correctly."

"You're kind of the reason Sam and I got together, because you convinced me to do a duet with him and when we won the competition and had dinner at Breadstix, we started dating."

"I've been a positive influence on many people's lives, and I still don't know this Sam guy. Was he that Asian dancer that never said anything until Tina started dating him?"

"…No. You told Finn that Puck was the father of my baby when he thought he was."

Rachel pouted. "I'm sorry."

Quinn considered that for only a moment. "I'm not mad at you."

"I should hope not, it's been years."

She sighed. "I…drew pornographic pictures of you on the bathroom wall."

"Oh, my God, _QUINN_!" Rachel exclaimed, and Quinn's eyes bulged. The brunette grinned.

"Y-you remember—"

"How have you been? It's so nice to see you," she babbled delightedly. "Did you ever become an artist? Because your drawings were really lifelike, if unflattering." She nodded sagely behind her punch cup.

Quinn's cheeks were flaming. "N-no. Lawyer."

"Ah. Makes sense."

Rachel smiled, Quinn blushed, and tension marinated.

"So. You wanna go make out?"

Quinn's eyes bulged for the second time and she spluttered, "Wh-wh-what? Wh-why would I wanna d-do that? A-and with you? I mean, ugh!"

The fact that she was hot all over and was discreetly scanning the gym for the nearest exit didn't mean _anything_.

Rachel tilted her head. "Well, I mean, you're obviously gay, right?"

Quinn was red enough to pass out. "What? _No_! Wh-wh-why would you think that?"

"I just assumed you must've had real life experience after those drawings," she replied, shrugging casually. Quinn tried to relearn how to breathe, and she was nearing success when Rachel added, "Plus, if you remember me after all these years, you _must_ be hot for me."

"I am not!" she yelped instinctively.

Rachel frowned sympathetically now. It was amazing how many different emotions she could work into one action.

"Still in denial? Don't worry, Egypt isn't _that_ far from France."

Blink. "What?"

"De Nile? French kissing?" Rachel shrugged, sipping her punch again. " _I_ thought it was funny."

Rachel sipped, Quinn blushed, and tension steeped.

"So. Um, if you're not going to go for it, I think I'm going to go find Brittany," Rachel said at length, setting her cup down. "I remember her being easy. And anyway, if I can't have the hottest blonde at McKinley, I may as well go for second best, right?" She grinned cheekily.

Quinn blushed. She wasn't sure she remembered how to do anything else at this point.

"You don't even remember me," she mumbled.

Rachel smiled. "Things are starting to come back. Which, by the way, you were _totally_ smoking when you wore leather for that mash-up we did of Bon Jovi and the Rolling Stones."

Blush. Wink. Deeper blush.

"Well, see you later."

It didn't mean _anything_ that Quinn panicked when Rachel started to walk away. She just wanted…closure. That's it. Closure.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"You mentioned that other people have apologized to you tonight and, well, I'd like to do the same."

Rachel smirked, folding her arms. "No, you don't, you want to make out."

Quinn frowned. "No, really. I-I feel bad."

Rachel wasn't listening, evidently. "Yeah. Just kiss me one time, and _then_ tell me you don't want to make out."

It didn't mean _anything_ that Quinn again felt hot and wet all over. Nor would it mean _anything_ if she just kissed her once. Just to prove it to her that that's not what she wanted, of course.

She grit her teeth. "Fine."

Rachel only had approximately half a second to smirk in triumph, but she used that half a second to its fullest extent. And then Quinn crashed their lips together.

#

_Five minutes later…_

"Mhinn?"

"Mhm?"

"I migh neehda breeve."

"Oh!" Quinn pulled apart, and Rachel gasped for air. "Sorry."

Sparkling eyes landed on a sheepish blonde and she grinned.

"Don't ever apologize for landing a kiss that mind-blowing on me. If I had known, I would have been unpressing your lemon _years_ ago," Rachel said bluntly.

"Unwhatting my what?"

She patted her shoulder. "So much to teach you, grasshopper."

Quinn smirked and rolled her eyes, and Rachel's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Now _that's_ how I remember you, right there."

"You mean we could've avoided all—ugh."

"So are you still denying that you want to make out?" Rachel asked, eyebrows waggling comically.

"If you stop reminding me of Puck, no, but I am asking if you have a hotel room."

She mock-gasped. "Sex on our first night? Scandalous!"

"Not necessarily," Quinn replied, grinning. "I'm just a little uncomfortable with our audience."

As it turns out, everyone in the room was staring at them.

"Ah." Rachel smirked. "Sure you don't want to hit a janitor's closet? For old time's sake?"

Quinn paused to consider this. "It _is_ a reunion. Besides, I probably couldn't keep my hands off of you long enough to drive anyway."

Rachel grinned, and Quinn was sure it didn't mean _anything_ when her heart fluttered in response.

Well, maybe it meant a little.


	3. Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S2. What does it mean to be friends with benefits? The gang can't seem to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

It had been going on for a few months now. Starting, of course, when Quinn first befriended Rachel with the idea of joining their talents in writing an original song for Regionals, and picking up again after the blonde voted the brunette in as MVP, triggering their very first make up as friends. Things were still a little rocky on the Finn front (when weren't they, really?), seeing as Rachel was still determined that they were meant to be (what better sign than their perfectly mashed portmanteau, Finchel; Quinn maintained that it sounded like some kind of mutated bird) and Quinn was still determined that she was meant to be Prom Queen, which Rachel wasn't about to argue with—on the contrary, she most fervently agreed, and upon the reinstatement of their friendship, assigned herself the hefty task of acting as Quinn's campaign manager.

The battle was long and arduous, particularly when Santana joined in the race for the crown (Quinn merely scoffed at this until Rachel pointed out that their new opponent clearly wielded the 'fear' vote; it was decided shortly after this that Quinn should slushie Rachel to cultivate her Head Bitch image—Quinn wasn't sure what shocked her more: that it had been Rachel's idea, or that she'd had to convince her to do it). But, in the end, it was proven that there was no beating the Ice Queen of the West and Rachel Berry (titles were unnecessary in her case, as everyone knew what that name entailed) teamed together. Quinn got her crown, Finn got his pink slip, having served his purpose, and Rachel got her man back.

This did not, by any means, stop what Quinn and Rachel were doing. In fact, if anything, Rachel's borderline obsessive devotion to aiding Quinn in reaching her goal only spurred the Prom Queen to instigate it more often. Rachel certainly wasn't complaining.

The glee club had gradually become more aware of the budding closeness between the two girls, often receiving hints about it in the form of a sharp, hissed comment from the shockingly protective blonde when a derogatory statement was made about her brunette counterpart, or a suggestion for the active use of the former cheerleader's voice from the abnormally generous diva. They got used to the new alliance, and all that it entailed. Even Finn couldn't bring himself to whine about spending every single lunch hour in the company of his bitchy ex-girlfriend; it was too much of a relief to them all that at least _one_ hostile relationship in their club had been patched up. It gave them a sort of hope, even. Though as far as Santana was concerned, Artie had no business hoping for anything from her (the asshole).

Anyway, as used to the new friendship as the glee club was, none of them were quite prepared for a public display of what Quinn and Rachel had been doing behind closed doors for months. So when they all piled into the Rachel's home in the last, dwindling days of June to celebrate their third place trophy from Nationals (and, well, the fact that they had all gone to New York—and in some cases, that they hadn't gotten mugged) and said hostess popped in the agreed upon movie (the first of the Harry Potters; it had been decided that a marathon would both entertain all of them whilst avoiding arguments and keep Rachel quiet for an extended period of time) before waltzing straight past the waiting arms of her smiling boyfriend and plopping onto the couch next to her reclining blonde friend, who instantly tugged the diva's back to her front before proceeding to melt around her body—arms, legs, a whole big tangle of limbs—the glee club was, to say the least, a little shocked.

Especially Finn. He was turning red. Puck made a point of dragging one of Rachel's defenseless bar stools out of the range of fire (just in case) before returning to the business of staring at the oblivious two, one of whom was burying her nose in lustrous brunette locks while the other fiddled with the pale fingers dangling over her stomach.

"Uh…Rach?"

Brown eyes traveled from the hand she was playing with up to her red-faced boyfriend, and something seemed to click. Although perhaps not the right something, in said boyfriend's mind. "Hmm? Oh, yes, I forgot the remote next to the DVD player, would someone mind passing it to me?"

Sam robotically reached and fumbled for it before passing it along the row until it reached Rachel's waiting hand. She smiled, said her thank you, and proceeded to skip the previews. All the while ignoring the fact that she and her human blanket were the center of attention. Finn was under the impression that she simply didn't care, which of course only made his face go even redder and that vein in his neck stick out farther. It was rather unattractive.

Mercedes was the first to break the silence (beyond the well-known melody bursting from the speakers).

"So…when did you guys start…uh…?" She gestured futilely, glancing at Kurt for help, which he did not supply. He offered only a shrug of his shoulders before leaning into a very confused Blaine, who frankly didn't see what the big deal was. It was quite obvious he was new.

"When did you guys become lady friends like me and San?" Brittany supplied helpfully, eyes bright and smile cheery. Santana proceeded to facepalm in misery, while Artie pretended he didn't hear that. He'd become quite good at that over the duration of his relationship with Brittany, who was honestly beginning to worry about her boyfriend's hearing—and worse, his thingy. All the other guys she made out with got turned on when she talked about her and Santana's escapades, but it didn't seem to faze Artie.

Rachel's expression was the picture of puzzlement, while Quinn merely chortled as the fingers that had been abandoned for the remote traced designs over the thin periwinkle fabric covering Rachel's abdomen and her toes grazed a smooth line up and down the diva's leg. Finn was rapidly turning green at the whole image.

"Rachel, _please_ tell me she's not…I mean, that you don't…and you're—"

"The long patches of silence are making this development kind of boring," Lauren interjected. "Berry, got any real food in this house?"

"I do believe my father keeps a box of sugar cookies on the second shelf of the pantry in the back, if you're referring to non-vegan food items," Rachel replied slowly.

"Thank you, sweet Jesus," the wrestler said, and Puck let out an unmanly yelp when she gripped the collar of his tee shirt and dragged him up the stairs. It was a testament to how much he'd grown that he didn't come bolting back down the stairs to find out if Quinn and Rachel really were engaging in an activity he'd imagined—with him present more often than not—at least three times a day since joining glee club (which he thought quite good, considering men on average have a sexual thought every seven seconds).

It took seven and a half seconds for someone to speak again, as all ears were trained on the retreating footsteps above them (it was hastily decided that Lauren was not actually hungry for food, or if she was, the stop at the pantry had been brief). In the space of those seven and a half seconds, a total of fifteen sexual thoughts occurred. Not all of them originated from males. At least two originated from a blonde girl.

"So," Kurt said, steering the conversation back to the two on the couch. "You two cuddle now."

"Are there sweet lady kisses, too?" Brittany asked, quite excitedly.

Rachel was still the picture of confusion. "Of course we cuddle," she affirmed, brow knitting most adorably before separating to allow a grin to spread across her cheeks. "We're friends with benefits, right, Quinn?"

Said blonde ignored the many pairs of wide eyes now settling on her, instead focusing her smirk directly on Rachel, who rolled slightly backward to meet her gaze. She squeezed her side and assured her, "Of course."

"But—no! This is totally unfair!" Finn bellowed, shooting to his feet. "Rachel, you're dating _me_!" He pointed to himself, just in case his volume and actual words hadn't been enough.

She nodded, brow tightening again. "Well, yes."

"You can't…have like, _benefits_ with Quinn while you're dating me! I thought you learned that with what happened with Puck last year!"

"Noah and I never had benefits," Rachel replied, lower lip poking out in her bewilderment.

"Uh, _hello_! Do you not remember making out with him?" Finn barked.

Before Rachel could reply, Santana interjected with a slightly raised hand, "Technically that's just a perk."

"Plus that's different, right, San?" Brittany added. "Like you said, with a girl it's not cheating because the plumbing's different." Artie did not hear this.

"What are you talking about?" Rachel cut in again, alarmed. "I never cheated on Finn! How could you think I would do that again?"

"You _just_ said you're friends with benefits with Quinn. Who also happened to cheat on me. I can't believe this! This is bullshit!" Finn roared, throwing up his hands.

The barstool Puck moved was grateful.

"But Finn—"

"I don't want to hear it! You know what? I can't even deal with this right now. I'm out of here!"

The slam of the door vibrated the house, and the sound was quickly followed by a heavy sigh from Kurt.

"I'd better go after him. He's very…touchy after this sort of thing," he said distastefully, and Blaine helped him up. "He's such a girl sometimes, really."

The others called their goodbyes before turning back to the couple on the couch, a few glares in the mix now.

"What are you staring at?" Quinn snarled, pulling a dumbfounded Rachel further into her embrace and glowering at the others.

"Quinn, you know I've got your back, but was this really necessary?" Mercedes retorted.

"I don't understand what I did to make him so upset," Rachel mumbled.

"You're cheating on him—for the second time—with Quinn—who also cheated on him—and you don't know what you did?" Tina prompted incredulously.

"I'm not cheating on Finn!" she exclaimed, and Quinn rubbed a soothing hand over the length of her side.

"Plumbing," Brittany cited again, nodding happily.

"Okay, I hate to say anything in defense of the douche that stole my girlfriend," Sam said, "but just because you call it 'friends' doesn't make the 'benefits' part any less cheating. And I don't know who told you that, Brittany, but 'plumbing' doesn't matter."

"Do you or Artie pay attention to your girlfriends at _all_?" Mike asked irritably, leaving the two looking as dumbfounded as Rachel.

"I still don't understand. How is my cuddling with Quinn considered cheating on Finn?" Rachel burst out, taking solace in the soft skin of the arms currently tucked tight around her ribcage.

"It's not," Quinn soothed. "Finn's just being…difficult."

"Whoa, whoa, wait." Mercedes gaped at them. "You mean all you guys are doing is cuddling? You're not…like…having sex?" She practically whispered the last part, eliciting an eye-roll from every non-virgin in the room.

"Wherever did you get that idea!" Rachel replied shortly, looking mildly offended.

"You _said_ benefits," Tina reminded her.

"Yes, precisely. We cuddle, as a benefit of being friends."

Santana promptly burst into body-shaking laughter, sending the diva's brow knitting for what felt like the millionth time in the space of the last twenty minutes or so. The Harry Potter theme was becoming quite tiresome.

Rachel hesitantly glanced over her shoulder at a displeased-looking blonde. "That…that's what you said it meant, right?"

The scowl on Quinn's face melted away at Rachel's innocent, uncertain tone and she promptly nuzzled her nose into the crook of the diva's neck, eliciting a girlish giggle. "Yes, that's what it is exactly."

Santana snorted, drawing the attention back to her and her by now silent laughter. Silent because it was so hard they were pretty sure only dogs could hear it at this point. Tears were streaming from the corners of her eyes, which Brittany hurriedly kissed away. Sam and Artie were deaf, though, not blind, and they quickly went from mildly disturbed and confused to red-faced and vein-popping. The barstool quivered in fear.

"Oh, my God, Q!" Santana snorted again. It was an altogether unpleasant sound, yet it somehow managed to spur the Asians and the other diva of the room into giggles. "You are so gay!"

Quinn stiffened, sneering at the hysterical girl. "First off, you're one to talk. And second, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, really? I have to spell it out?" At the confused looks of everyone else in the room, including a gobsmacked Rachel, Santana let Brittany kiss away the evidence of the rest of her tears before composing herself and studiously ignoring the glares from both Sam and Artie as she explained, "You think I don't know a repressed homosexual denial tactic when I hear one? I wrote the book on that, Q, and the whole 'oh, no, it's doesn't _really_ mean anything, everyone does this, trust me' trick is in like chapter one, okay?"

"Quinn? What is she talking about?" Rachel prodded softly, craning her neck to look back at the girl cradling her, who was training a murderous glare on her very much ex-best friend.

"Wait. Hold the phone. You're _gay_?" Sam yelped, and Mike facepalmed along with both Mercedes and Tina.

"You didn't somehow gather this from their performance of Landslide?" Mike prompted tiredly.

"Wait, Brittany is, too?" Artie exclaimed. "I can't believe you would…why have you never told me?"

"But, Artie, I'm not gay." There was a pause. "I'm bisexual."

"How could you not tell me?"

"Yeah, and you, too!" Sam added, furious.

"I-I thought you knew," Brittany pleaded. "I'm sorry."

Artie fumed, folding his arms, while Sam glared down at Santana. Who eventually noticed and scowled.

"If you didn't get that I wasn't into you after Trouty Mouth, then it really isn't my fault."

"You know what? I completely forgot about that until just now," Sam said angrily, and Santana just shot him an unimpressed look. "We are done, okay? Over! And I'm not staying in the same room with you right now. I'm out of here."

"Me, too," Artie agreed, but his dramatic storm out died a bit when he hit the stairs. "Uh…Mike, Sam, could you…?"

Sam hurried back down and Mike rolled his eyes. "Sure, hold on."

"I think we should go anyway," Tina added, brushing off. "This day has been weird enough already."

"Totally with you, girl," Mercedes said, trailing after her and the boys.

"Thanks for the party, Rachel; it was…short," she called back to the pouting brunette.

"I really thought Artie knew," Brittany commented forlornly, and Santana rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"It's not your fault," she soothed. "He's just a shitty boyfriend. Me, on the other hand? _I_ know you're bisexual, so…."

"So you wouldn't get mad at me if I told you I was?" she finished excitedly, bouncing on her crossed legs.

Santana grinned. "Exactly."

"You wanna have fun time at my house again?"

"I thought you'd never ask; let's go, baby."

The two were up and out the door faster than Quinn had ever seen them move, and that included Cheerios practices where Coach Sylvester attached fuses to their shoes to 'improve their pathetically snail-like levels of speed.' Quinn shook her head of the nightmare-inducing thoughts and nestled her nose back in the crook of Rachel's neck, eyeing the still-playing Harry Potter menu with distaste.

"Rachel, why don't you shut that off? I don't think we're going to end up having that marathon—at least not today," she added hastily when she felt the girl start to droop.

"I suppose you're right," she replied, stopping it and shutting down the power before carelessly tossing the remote to the floor, her hands returning to Quinn's pale arms and rubbing them up and down. "It's been a…strange morning."

She hummed her agreement. "I'm sure Finn won't stay angry with you too long. Once you explain, anyway."

"Honestly, I'm not all that concerned about it," Rachel replied cautiously, swallowing the sudden thickness in her throat as she felt Quinn's foot still its rubbing motions up and down her calf.

Quinn leaned closer, over her neck. "You're not?"

The undeniable interest in those two purred words gave Rachel the courage to swallow the lump down enough to eke out, "I was more thinking about…what Santana said."

Quinn's entire body tightened, her tone cold when she prompted, "Oh?"

"Yes. Exactly what benefits am I missing out on that 'everyone' supposedly does?" Rachel asked curiously, digging her teeth into her plump bottom lip as she peered demurely through her lashes up at Quinn partly hovering over her.

A smirk twisted Quinn's pink lips, her foot resumed its rubbing, and the last coherent thing Rachel remembered being said was, "Allow me to educate you."


	4. Fant-ass-tic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S2. Rachel shows her appreciation for Quinn's caboose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.  
> Where I come from Loosey Caboosey basically means 'big booty,' so this happened prior to the episode release.

Rachel quickly slipped the fresh white fabric over her head in a rush to cover her fleshy stomach, a smile of contentment with her recovered modesty settling on her plump lips. She turned to the dressing room mirror she was occupying, looking with satisfaction at the all-capital pronouncement of her in-born nature: 'PRIMA DONNA.' As the message of their upcoming number implied, Rachel was less than embarrassed by the words on her t-shirt. After all, baby, she was born this way.

She muffled a snicker at her own thoughts, turning about to observe the rest of her (female) teammates and the proud proclamations on their chests. Santana was only a mirror over, carefully applying mascara to the curve of her eyelashes. Spread across her chest were the words 'LESBIAN LEMON.' Rachel wasn't entirely certain as to what the 'lemon' part of her label referred to, but she wasn't about to ask, either. Santana may not have been in active pursuit of Rachel's everlasting misery lately, but that could change as quickly as Mr. Schuester's setlists.

Nearby, Tina had pulled her shirt over her head and busied herself with her long black locks, pulling them from beneath the fabric and over her shoulder, partly covering the words 'EMO CHICK.' Brittany was sitting on the large green couch along the wall, first ready after Lauren (she had already rushed off to do something with Noah that Rachel frankly didn't want to think about), though she was staring rather curiously down at the words on her shirt: 'I'M WITH STOOPID.' Rachel smiled easily at the bluntness of it all, something she had always valued while others labeled her 'brutal' and 'overbearing' for it. She was glad to see her teammates embracing the importance of honesty.

Mercedes was peering into a handheld mirror to properly apply her lipstick—her shirt simply said 'NO WEAVE,' though Rachel thought she could have been a bit more creative—and behind her, Quinn stood as she pulled on her shirt, stark white overtaking deliciously pale flesh faster than Rachel could properly process it. Quinn flipped her hair out from beneath the shirt and turned, hazel eyes already roving for something on the nearby vanity, whilst Rachel's brow knit with confusion at the message on Quinn's chest: 'LUCY CABOOSEY.'

Before she could censor herself as she usually did with Santana, Rachel had blurted the blonde's name, tilting her head in question. Quinn looked up sharply, but not with near the amount of hatred Rachel would have garnered from Santana. She considered it a small victory that Quinn didn't take her head off for disturbing her, but only cracked open her case of eye shadow and queried neutrally, "What?"

Rachel's head tilted further, peering closely at the black lettering as she prompted awkwardly, "What does 'Lucy Caboosey' mean?"

The rest of the girls, half-listening to the exchange, snickered at this, Santana the loudest. Mercedes patted Quinn on the back as she set her lipstick back on their shared stand, and Rachel saw the faintest shade of pink color Quinn's porcelain cheeks.

"It means Tubbers has a big ass," Santana supplied brusquely, a smirk twisting her lips, but before Rachel could respond, Brittany stood up to elaborate. By singing. With hip thrusts.

" _I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny_ ," she crooned, making Tina, Mercedes, and Santana roar with laughter whilst Quinn's cheeks went from lightly pink to flaming red, almost kicking it up to purple when Brittany smacked her lightly on the rump. " _When a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get_ …." They all waited expectantly, but after twisting her lips this way and that for a moment, Brittany plopped back onto the couch and said, "I forgot the rest."

Rachel was unsurprised by this, but she was stunned at the description of Quinn's posterior as…prominent. Not that it wasn't noticeable, it just wasn't…she wouldn't use Baby Got Back to describe it, that was all. Though she supposed it would be inappropriate for her to sing that song in reference to anyone's behind, considering her lack of an 'anaconda.'

Still, she found herself blurting, almost offended on Quinn's derriere's behalf, "Quinn, you have a _great_ ass!"

The dressing room went silent. Rachel swore she almost heard Artie's wheels turning in the room over. She could not believe those words just left her mouth. She had meant to be rather more…eloquent and much, _much_ less enthusiastic, but it appeared her brain-to-mouth filter (yes, she had one) had abandoned her entirely for the day, and now she had to deal with the subsequent damage of her hastily spoken words. She discreetly roved her eyes over the room to see just how much damage there was.

Santana was eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, to the point where it looked as though a chuckle was imminent, while Tina and Mercedes wore the most disturbed expressions of the group, exchanging a glance that Rachel was scared to interpret. Brittany, of course, didn't see anything amiss, and Quinn was simply…staring, her hand frozen halfway to her face with a swipe of eye shadow to apply, cheeks flushed and eyes alight with curiosity and….

"Uh…thanks, Rachel, but…the shirt speaks for itself," she stammered out eventually, easing the tension in the room as she gestured to her self-selected message and elicited chuckles from the others.

Rachel's frown was automatic, as were her next words as she crept closer to Quinn, privatizing the conversation somewhat. Not that the others would care about their privacy.

"No, really, Quinn," she said sincerely, capturing Quinn's intense attention once more. "Your…behind is as proportional as the rest of your perfect body. If it is any larger than average, it isn't due to excess fat; your excellent exercise regime has made sure of that. It's actually rather tight and firm, likely because of your consistent healthcare, which, I am under the impression, is desirable in a woman's…bottom. Besides, larger…rumps are often thought as attractive assets, as evidenced by the song Brittany just graced us with, and I certainly think yours is one of the, if not the, top-ranking posteriors I have seen in my admittedly brief lifetime. I reiterate: you have a great ass."

Again, silence, only this time Quinn couldn't seem to bring herself to meet Rachel's gaze, blushing profusely as she fiddled with her eye shadow container. Rachel didn't know exactly why this had her smiling, but it did.

"You spend an awful lot of time thinking about Juno's ass, eh, Dwarf?" Santana called from across the silent room, and both Quinn and Rachel jumped simultaneously.

"No," she protested hastily. "I'm simply more observant than the average teenager." She nodded, pleased with her answer.

"Oh, really? Then can you give me a paragraph on _my_ greatest feature?" she taunted, that wicked smirk twisting her lips and only growing more Grinch-like the longer Rachel's jaw flapped.

"I…I never said Quinn's bottom was her greatest feature," she managed to spew eventually, folding her arms haughtily.

Santana snorted. "Uh huh. All right, losers, let's leave the closeted lemons to finish getting their shit together," she barked, ushering the others through the door as Brittany asked, "Sanny, wouldn't a lemon rot if you kept it in a closet?"

The silence they left in their wake was stifling, though both girls tried valiantly to pretend they didn't notice a thing. Quinn hastily returned to applying eye shadow while Rachel stepped back over to her vanity and fiddled with the lid on her lipstick, wondering (not for the first time) if she should even bother with it. Lipstick was meant to augment your lips (obviously), but hers were big enough to be noticed in the back row. She could see the headlines about the plastic surgery she'd had done when she was a little nobody now.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your stomach."

Rachel jumped again, nearly dropping the lipstick container to the floor as she turned to peer at a pink, eyeliner-applying Quinn.

"What?"

Quinn paused, chewing on her lip before letting loose the words, "Your abs. They're…awesome."

Rachel blinked. "Oh." A pregnant pause weighted down on them. "Really?"

Quinn nodded once and set down her eyeliner, exchanging it for mascara. "Yeah."

They worked at doing up their faces in silence then, and Rachel forewent deciding on the lipstick in favor of focusing on her best feature: her eyes. It wasn't until Quinn had finished behind her and Rachel was again fiddling with the lipstick that words were passed between them again, and it was again Quinn who broke it.

"Cherry red…looks really good on your lips," she offered quietly, and again Rachel blinked.

"Oh. Thank you."

Quinn nodded, and Rachel watched her awkwardly pat her pants before turning toward the door to leave her to it. It was then, eyeing Quinn's arse in the mirror, that she was struck with sudden inspiration, and she whirled on her heel, calling her name again. She looked back curiously, even less hatred in her gaze than before, and Rachel smiled nervously.

"Would you…I mean, would it be…would you ever consider…singingasongwithme?" she blurted, and then chewed on her unpainted bottom lip.

Quinn's eyes brightened with interest and she wandered closer. "Sure. I…that could be fun." She coughed, as though that would erase her admittance at being able to enjoy _any_ activity with Rachel.

It didn't matter. Rachel's megawatt grin was on her face and she said happily, "I have the _perfect_ mashup to run by you."


	5. Reenactment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S2. Blaine is confused about Quinn and Rachel's unique dynamic, and it's left to Brittana to...explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

For once in the glee club (well, technically in the Lima Bean, but the location wasn't truly that important), there was a semblance of peace. The disaster that was prom somehow knit the group tighter than ever (well, except for Finn and Quinn), and they were all (except for Finn and Quinn) enjoying a round of coffees at the aforementioned coffee place with Blaine Anderson, who had recently informed the club of his indecision in whether or not to transfer, and not only to be nearer to his boyfriend.

There was hesitance in the group. Not because they didn't all like Blaine well enough, but because…well, let's face it. New Directions had a few skeletons in the closet, and though Blaine may have heard about most of it through Kurt, there were some things you only learned through—

"BERRY!"

—experience.

"Quinn? How lovely of you to join us! We were just having a lu—"

"Cut the crap, Berry," the furious hazel-eyed blonde snarled down at the brunette tucked under Sam's friendly arm. "How many times do we have to go over this? Finn is _my_ boyfriend, which means you keep your grabby paws _off_."

Rachel's jaw dropped indignantly. "I haven't put a 'paw', as you so crudely put it, on him since the prom, and that was merely to pry him off of _my_ date, if you recall!"

"Oh, I remember your little scheme incredibly well," Quinn spat right back.

"My _scheme_? Excuse me, but _I_ was the one minding my own business and having a pleasant evening on my group date before _yours_ rudely interrupted it!"

"Don't pretend like you didn't bring Jesse St. Asshole just to piss Finn off! You _knew_ —"

Rachel abruptly shot to her feet. "Do not call my friend an asshole!"

"Don't tell me what to do, you little dwarf!" Quinn seethed, directly in Rachel's face.

"Because that insult never gets old!"

"Neither do you, apparently. I think I saw you wearing that sweater back in the third grade."

"You know, Quinn, every single time I believe we've made progress in our relationship, you drag us back fifty steps almost the very next day, and I am sick of it!"

"Yeah? What are you gonna do? Storm out?"

Rachel pushed past Quinn to do just that, and Quinn was hot on her heels in seconds.

"Oh, seriously? That's _really_ mature, Rachel."

The bell rang and silence fell as the two exited the cafe, leaving the New Directions to shake their heads and sigh while Blaine's brow crinkled.

"Uh…am I the only one confused?" he asked when no words were spoken.

"Yes," Puck offered helpfully.

Blaine frowned. "Weren't they friends after the prom? I thought Rachel drove her home and all."

"Rachel and Quinn have a…complicated relationship," Mercedes said.

"It's hard to explain," Tina added.

"Extremely. I tried to tell my grandma, but I got to the pornographic drawings and she just kind of wouldn't move past that," Artie said, shrugging.

"Wait. Pornographic…what?"

Blaine looked so confused that even Santana couldn't stand it anymore. She leaned her elbows on the table, grabbing his attention, and said, "Let me break it down for you, Blaine."

They all watched in consternation as she stood, straightening her clothing and stroking down her hair until it was perfectly flat, and then she adopted a loud, gasping voice as she pressed her hands against her chest, "'Oh, Quinn, I…couldn't help but notice how…beautiful your nose is. And…even though I'm a spunky, talented underdog with no sense of fashion, I can't help but notice how…lovely you look in that Cheerios uniform. Maybe…'" She broke off with a pained sigh.

And then Brittany startled them all when she stood and said, hope in her voice, "'Yes?'"

Santana whipped around to face her, smirking briefly before turning serious again, blurting out, "'Maybe…I should…date your boyfriend.'" She lowered her face in shame, turning away from Brittany again.

Brittany shoved her chair back and stormed over to Santana, growling in a surprisingly accurate tone, "'No. You can't date _anyone_.'"

Santana turned again, grinning almost delightedly as she gasped, "'Quinn! You're so…demanding.'" She bit her lip, then abruptly folded her arms with a frown. "'I mean! You can't tell me what to do!'"

Brittany smirked. "'I don't have to. I'll put you so far down on the food chain you'll have no choice but to…'" And then she turned away.

Santana clasped her hands together, whispering, "'Yes?'"

"'I can't. These feelings are wrong. And…'"

"'Yes?'"

Brittany turned back to her. "'I'm pregnant.'"

Santana let out a horrendously large gasp that had even the baristas staring at her, half-sobbing out, "'Then there's nothing for it. I have to date your boyfriend. It's the closest I can ever come to…'"

"'Yes?'" Brittany asked hopefully, eyes wide and sparkling.

She held herself, turning away yet again. "'Nothing.'"

Her head dropped. "'Then there's nothing left for me, either. All I have is to argue with you just to get your attention. And the one, shining moment in my life will be that beautiful, shining crown. Before you leave me here in my miserable life in this crappy town.'" Brittany's fake-sob was so convincing that Mike nearly got up to hug her, but Santana whipped around hastily, stepping close.

"'But Quinn. You're…you're worth so much more. If I could only tell you how much…'"

She bit her lip, and Brittany raised her head, eyes wide and sparkling again.

"'Yes?'"

Santana shifted closer. "'I…'"

Brittany mimicked the movement, hands clasped together. "'Yes?'"

Before any of them could react, Santana had grabbed Brittany's shoulders and then dipped her down toward the floor, planting a big, sloppy kiss on her lips. Puck tried to stand up to see better, but Lauren hit him in the shoulder. Finally, the two rose up, gasping for air, and Santana brushed her shoulder off before seating herself with Brittany.

"And that's the gist of Quinn and Rachel."

Blaine blinked. "Not to sound hypocritical or anything, but that got really…gay."

The New Directions members exchanged exasperated glances and said, almost in unison, "We know."


	6. Rachel Breaks the Rules (and Lucy is Totally Gay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S2. By definition, the crackiest crack drabble that ever cracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

"All right, this week's assignment is—"

"Sorry I'm late, everyone! You wouldn't _believe_ how difficult it is to get to glee club on real time. I actually had Biology just now and—"

"Rachel." Finn's eyes were as wide as saucers, which was quite an accomplishment considering how beady they normally were. "Who is that?"

Rachel hastily glanced to her right, where most of the glee clubbers were focusing their attention, and a grin instantly blossomed on her face as she linked arms with the brown-haired boy in glasses and a pi shirt next to her.

"Oh, I'm being so rude! My sincerest apologies; my head is all over the place today. Everyone, _this_ is Brian, my new boyfriend."

Jaws clanked to the floor.

Mr. Schue smiled. "Well, congratulations, Rachel—"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait." Artie eyed the boy suspiciously. "Is he in a glee club?"

Brian chuckled and Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

Mr. Schue's jaw joined everyone else's. "Is…is he here to join ours?"

Brian and Rachel exchanged one glance and burst into belly-shaking laughter.

"No," Rachel snorted. "He's completely tone deaf. He can't sing at all."

"It's true; I'm awful," Brian agreed, nodding.

"But…he can dance, right?" Kurt prompted.

"I have two left feet."

The glee club was in a state of shock. Santana was the only one able to come out of her stupor enough to ask, "Um…I guess that's…okay, but does he go to Carmel?"

"No."

Kurt scowled. "Dalton?"

"No."

Puck held up his hands. "Whoa. Wait. Are you saying…he goes _here_?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Yes."

"Oh, so he's a transfer student," Mr. Schue said, relaxing.

"No, he's gone here literally the entire time we have. Actually shorter. He's a sophomore." Rachel smiled.

Gasps echoed throughout the room.

"He's in another grade and doesn't go to another school?" Tina looked about ready to pass out from the shock.

"Yes!" Rachel confirmed, nodding happily.

"Rachel, you can't do this," Mike protested.

"Way to use up your one line on something as stupid as that," Santana scoffed.

"Random comment," Brittany said.

"What the hell is she talking about?" Mercedes asked, incredulous.

"Mike's right, Rachel. You can't date this guy," Finn said determinedly, folding his arms.

She glanced at a nonplussed Brian. "Uh…why not?"

"Because he's not in a glee club—he can't even sing, he doesn't go to any of the schools new people come from, he's not a transfer student, he's in another grade, and also only I'm allowed to date you. But only when I feel like it. Right now I'm on a finding my inner rockstar kick, so you're supposed to go pine until I'm ready for you."

Rachel was incensed. "Well, you know what? Maybe I'm sick of dating guys who sing and are in glee club. Yeah, maybe I want to date someone who isn't neck-deep in this dysfunctional drama we go through every day. Maybe I want to date someone nerdy and average like Brian, who doesn't forgo condoms to fulfill his own fantasies, and who doesn't throw raw egg on people's heads or houses, and who doesn't think he is the center of the universe, and who doesn't have one line an episode, and who doesn't hit the reset button every week! Because you know what? At least Brian has a normal name."

There were again jaws hitting the floor everywhere.

"That's right. A normal name. Not after a car, or some band that we haven't even done the music of, so what even? Or a popstar that people can't decide whether to hate or ravish, or the anatomy of a fish. Or a children's book rhyme, though that reference doesn't really matter anymore since he inexplicably left the building after starting a new relationship that may have had a modicum of success, unlike his previous attempts with two clear lesbians."

"Who is she talking about?" Mercedes asked Tina, who shrugged.

"Or a character from A Midsummer Night's Dream, or alternately hockey equipment. _Or_ the name of a girl or guy when they're actually the opposite gender. And I'm not just talking to Jesse, Quinn."

Quinn proceeded to pout.

"Oh, don't be sad, Quinn; you wear the name quite proudly and it's so beautiful, like you." She smiled and Quinn squirmed.

Brian nudged her. "Honey, remember what we talked about."

"Oh, right, homoerotic lines and obsessive tendencies toward your female archrival do not make you seem straight. I remember now."

He smiled proudly and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl."

"You know what? Whatever, you're named after a Friends character, so," Santana grumbled.

"Okay, you _know_ that was a completely random decision late in the school year and unless you come out and say Rachel Greene, it's not even recognizable. Unlike yours." Rachel glared.

"Blaine's name isn't weird," Kurt piped up. "And neither is mine."

"Yours _rhymes_ with your dad's," she said pointedly. "And Blaine? Where did that even come from? Seriously."

Kurt proceeded to pout.

…

"So, now that that's settled, I hope you can all accept my new relationship with Brian without issue and we can get on with practice." She smiled widely.

"I'll be right back." Quinn was out the door before anyone could say anything, so they all waited about five minutes until a blonde girl with a fedora, trench coat, and scarf came in and offered her hand to Rachel. "Hi, I'm Lucy."

Rachel's eyes went heart-shaped. Brian groaned.

"It's recognizable from Peanuts, I hope you know," he grumbled.

Brittany elbowed him and munched down faster on her popcorn as she watched the two intently. "Shhh, Luce and Rachel are my OTP."

"Seriously, what the hell?" Mercedes grumbled.

Santana glared at her. "You were obsessed with tater tots, shut up."


End file.
